The Gathering of the Remnant
by CelestiaTrollworth
Summary: There aren't enough Vulcans, so the Council of Elders quite logically decides to go get some-from the distant past. They send a crew of infertile men, hybrids and human friends into the battle-wrecked desert to bring home anyone they can. There is some foul language and medical stuff, so I'd rate it M for the sensitive. Also on AO3.
1. Chapter 1

"So it is your contention that you never attempted to attack the Federation?"

Ek'halitra'lan T'Lia was wearing a face that had made her the most feared of Romulan admirals and a gray Vulcan Navy dress uniform. The heavy eye makeup gave her level gaze a chilling intensity, had Admiral Roskov owned the good sense to see it, and the jagged dark scar down her cheek and neck seemed to pulse darker as he continued to question in circles. She had disposed herself in the witness chair some three and a half hours before and had scarcely moved, the drape of her dove-gray robes and the casual lean of an elbow on the armrest denying the situation its importance. "Such was never my intention. You are well aware of that."

The crowd in the small conference center was silent, watching the questioning play out in the next room. Kirk kept his own silence even when it made him squirm. Spock, beside him, was as outwardly calm and immobile as the admiral herself. The roil of emotion barely suppressed was easy for Kirk to feel; he could even pick up Nyota's fury on Spock's other side.

To his left, Bones simmered in his seat and muttered "Bastard Roskov. He's the one that cut and ran when he thought he was gonna get shot at. Real brave when he's yelling at one woman."

He urged the doctor to his feet and herded him to the hallway where Bones' comments might not inspire a riot. "If that's what he thinks, he's yelling at the wrong one." Kirk felt his own grin. "You haven't got to talk to her much yet. Trust me."

"You've met all of those people. The only ones I've met are Spock's father and grandmother, and what's the deal with her looking so young?"

"She and Skon _were_ young when they had Sarek. It's the equivalent of teenagers having a baby. If you think that's confusing, his great-grandfathers have been time traveling so much they're less than half their age on paper and younger than her. It's an interesting family."

Bones grimaced. "Why is it, when hobgoblins are involved, 'interesting' always means we're likely to get killed?"

"At this rate, Admiral Roskov might. HQ gave him until five to ask her all the questions he wants, then he has to stop and take it up again after Federation Day if he still wants to chase his own tail. In the meantime, we have that stuff we don't talk about to do."

"Yeah." Bones puffed out his cheeks in a silent whistle. "I gotta hand it to you, you can talk me into doing damn near anything, and this is a doozy. Admiral Nogura really did say yes?"

"He did. I wouldn't lie to you about something that important. We are duly TDYed to Admiral T'Lia for her project and we're riding out with her family as soon as she's done here."

They could hear the questioning staggering to a halt. "I am aware of no such thing! There were armed Romulan ships firing on Federation targets!"

"An inescapable fact of dealing with the Sundered. Some percentage of any Exile fleet is always disloyal. A large portion of the Fourth Fleet is thought so on that side of the Zone."

Roskov had asked the same question at least four times now. Kirk wasn't sure why he expected a different answer. "The situation was impossible and you did nothing!"

"I did what was required to retrieve all Vulcan prisoners and assemble all of my forces in a defensive position that could handle any conceivable attack. The aforementioned factor of disloyalty could not be calculated with sufficient certainty to permit a quicker and more decisive response."

"You had _months_ to get here!"

"I was on the wrong side of the Empire and deceived by the Tal Shiar, as were the others who might have prevented the _Narada's_ attack. The _Vengeance_ attack was conceived and planned entirely on Earth, where I had no access to records that might have caused me to react more quickly."

Roskov had gone down that road four times already as well, with the same results. The future- derived cloaking on the _Narada_ had not been identifiable by any current technology, Terran or Vulcan. The Vulcan Navy's attempt to prevent the giant anomaly from reaching Vulcan had ended in disaster, along with Starfleet's rescue attempt. Lia had not intended to take over Starfleet, unless of course they planned to exterminate the Remnant of Vulcan. Why yes, she would have taken out Fleet headquarters, or anything else necessary, had that been the case. Doing otherwise would have betrayed her oath of office. Had she not betrayed her Romulan oath by fulfilling the Federation one?

"As I have said, Admiral, the Romulan oath is quite broad. I am to defend the interest of the Romulan people. On that side of the Zone, one point two trillion deluded Vulkansu live under a hellish, illegally derived and immoral government in exile that encouraged its people to murder my planet. I meditated upon that oath and concluded it was my sworn duty to bring about their liberation and unity with the Confederation of Surak by any means necessary. I have done what I could in that regard."

"Time, Admiral Roskov," grumbled a disgusted Nogura, banging down a gavel. "These proceedings are suspended for the next ten days,subject to cancellation should Admiral Roskov suddenly develop common sense. Fleet Admiral-" it was impossible not to notice the slight emphasis he put on Fleet, to remind Roskov he was badly outranked-"you have been most gracious in answering our questions, and I know your people don't expect thanks, but I extend them."

"And I thank you for your impartiality." T'Lia swept to her feet, nodding politely in his direction and pointedly not toward Roskov.

The panel left the conference and shuffled into the hallway. Nogura patted Kirk's shoulder as he went by and winked. Roskov snorted as he passed. The usual rabble of lesser officers and aides drained, then the guest of dishonor glided forth to meet a tall, thick-shouldered Vulcan man in fatigues. He held out his hands in the traditional family greeting, and Admiral T'Lia went to him, leaning into him in a weary way. "Lhairre, are you sure I can't punch Roskov?"

The man ducked his forehead to tap against hers over their joined hands. "No, elev, you have to behave. Unfortunately, so do I."

"I have to pee and get rid of this makeup, then we're going to Pennsylvania unless I can figure out how to open the shuttle window and spit on Roskov on my way." T'Lia mussed Kirk's hair on her way by and nearly ran into Bones. "Oh. Hello, Dr. McCoy."

Bones stared after her as Spock fulminated his way to them. "Uh...she just...I didn't realize Vulcans could, um, express themselves that bluntly."

"For her, that _was_ restrained," Kirk grinned.

"What on earth have I gotten myself into?"

"A mission about which you will no doubt express endless and extravagant regret, all the while performing near miracles in spite of your whining," Spock said. Uhura found it necessary to turn her back for a moment. "You were preparing to ask about Aunt Lia's appearance. It is at present unwise for her to appear in public with her own face unless she is out of uniform and not easily identifiable."

That didn't seem to help Bones' mood. "Oh. In other words, she's a target."

"All of us are," Spock said blandly.

 _That was mean_ , Kirk thought at him. _But funny. And unfortunately true_. He knew Spock would hear him.

With Bones in his usual hopeless mood when boarding any aircraft, they were waiting on the Vulcan Embassy roof when a middle-aged, pregnant Vulcan woman in Terran clothing bounded aboard and flung herself into the pilot's seat. "Next stop, Carbon Creek," she said, and took off eastbound.

"Uh..." the doctor looked around in consternation. "Where's the admiral?"

"Your tradecraft still works," Lhairre said.

"But the scar..."

"Great makeup," said their pilot, taking the shuttle down far too close to ground level so she could buzz Roskov, who was indeed walking along the jogging trail. "Eh. Missed him."

"Ack," Bones whimpered.


	2. Let Us Combine Our Differences

The cross-continent flight was swift and uncommonly smooth. Whatever her temperamental failings, the admiral was an excellent pilot to make up for her mtterings about not being able to go on the mission. She landed them crisply. As they emerged into the afternoon near the Carbon Creek Community Center, large red flowers spilled spicy fragrance into the air. The rest of the shuttle passengers went on ahead, but Spock stopped to look at one and Kirk stayed with him. "Svai. These used to grow just at the edge of the Forge."

"I'm surprised they can grow here."

"They're quite adaptable, unlike most of the Remnant." Spock poked at the flower's central cone. "It may be unacceptable to pick and eat these here, although they're good."

"I wouldn't dare try it."

"I'm reasonably certain they wouldn't bother you, based on the pattern of your other allergies." He let go of the flower, but did not go on. "One last time, Jim: are you certain?"

Of course he would ask where no one was near enough to hear their words, let alone their thoughts. You, me and the moon, as the Romulans said. "You're going, I'm going."

"That's what you said about New Vulcan. I believe you may have found that unpleasant."

Three weeks of hell, two major battles and sights he would never forget were all of that, but the exhaustion had gone away, the wounds had healed and he now knew numerous people who didn't mind that he was alive. "In Vulcan terms, the knowledge and experience gained outweighed the negatives. I expect the same of this mission and I'm honored to be invited."

Spock very nearly smiled and did reach out with the tip of a forefinger to trace the top of his ear. "Dr. McCoy seems to believe you are serious. I should as well."

"Oddly enough, I kind of like 'em. He made me promise to let him pull the tips as soon as we're done, but I get to keep Mestral's stem cells because they got rid of my peanut allergy."

"You may also appreciate lowered oxygen requirements when you're rock climbing."

"I will. More than that..." He hesitated; too much? Spock mentally encouraged him to speak. "When I see your family, I see what made you. I know you and your dad had interesting times and will again, but he's a good argument, as my grandmother used to say."

"I agree. Prime says that in their worst of times, they did not speak as father and son, but they never failed to argue in useful ways."

"As for your great-grandfathers, I feel fortunate to know them."

"Many people feel that way about Solkar. Mestral is not such a favorite with the elders."

"Your grandmother T'Rana seems like an interesting person as well."

"When she is not angry, she can be a most worthy ally."

"Your grandfather Skon is another matter, or so I hear."

That time he did smile. "I had forgotten you have not met him. The awkward timeline..." Spock shook his head. Due to a time distortion, during the New Vulcan mess everyone had the distinct impression that Spock's grandfather had been dead for many years. A slight restoration had left him as alive and well as anyone who had survived va'Pak was likely to be. Better still, a slew of happy memories had returned with the timeline repair.

"I know this is all normal to you. It's just...I don't have that. My father was a legend, not a real person. I knew Grandma Kirk for all of a month. Kodos sent her off the day he took over. He wasn't shooting people then, just telling them to go out and die in the woods or he'd off the whole family. The few things I remember from her, I keep in mind. Mom's parents barely talk to her. Do I look like them, or Dad's side? I don't know. Having too much family would be a relief." The idiocy of the statement made him want to bang his head on the community center wall. "Forget I said that."

"Last year, it would have been true. Now, I know my good fortune, even if at one time it would have seemed an insane statement." They reached the door of the community center. "Speaking of family, some seem more elevated than others."

"Careful!" a tall, fragile Vulcan man squeaked as they neared the base of the ladder he held in a death grip. He was, indeed, a younger and longer vision of Prime. On the top rung, balancing without a handhold, a determined woman was taking swings at a piece of aluminum Golic calligraphy- "Let us embrace our differences boldly"-with a chisel and short-handled sledge. "Hit it again on the right side ten point three centimeters straight down from where you just did."

She half-turned and looked down, tools in hand. "Are you _sure_ you want the accent _there_?"

"Yes. It's Modern Golic, not Ancient. Oh, be careful. Won't you let me up there?"

"Modern? It's a variation on Surak. Hmph." The woman brandished the hammer. "Who's the silversmith here, may I ask?"

"It's aluminum, not silver, it's bigger than you usually handle and it's five meters up." No doubt Skon would have been mildly and invisibly offended had anyone suggested he was visibly worrying.

Spock folded his hands behind his back and looked up at the work. "The sign is attractive, sa'mekh'li. It is new?"

Skon gingerly turned his head toward them. "Indeed. I would offer you a greeting, grandson, but I need both hands at the moment. The former sign was well-intentioned, but not written by a native speaker. Good afternoon, Captain Kirk. Oh. My."

"Dif-tor heh smushna, osu Skon." He set his face blank and rendered the ta'al.

Skon nearly smiled in delight. "Peace and long life indeed! Rana, did you see this?"

"Well. _That's_ certainly different." Sarek's majestic mother let go of the ladder again, turning back to eye up the calligraphy. It wasn't hard to see where Spock's father had gotten his build or the outward veneer of his demeanor. Even the mannerisms were similar. "Am I done up here?"

"I believe so, and do _not_ jump down!"

She had been thinking about it. Kirk knew many Vulcans wouldn't bother climbing down a single story, but Rana was a bit further up than that and her husband was already all but gnawing off his fingernails as it was. She muttered under her breath and swung herself down until she was within his reach, where he caught her in his arms and set her gently on the ground as if he were reluctant to let go. "Now stop fussing, Skon.-I must say, Kirk, that is remarkable. Your assistance is generous and most desirable since my bondmate and I are not permitted to go on this mission."

"Father said there were health consider-" Spock stopped in mid-word. "Oh."

T'Rana looked even more smug. Skon hunched a bit and turned deep green. "The cause was, er, unanticipated but welcome."

After the Loss and the need to rebuild the species, even those at midlife, like Skon and Rana, were often carrying children for others. He gathered the current occupant of Rana's baby bump was homemade. "Arre," Rana said. "She has already approved of the name. I should have named her Trellium-D."

The neurotoxin with which a Romulan saboteur had poisoned the Vulcan Embassy staff a few months before was known to cause permanent loss of emotional control. From the look of Sarek's parents, neither minded. Rana stuck the hammer in her belt loop and resumed looking fearless and imperious, except she reached for Skon's hand and held it at her side. "This was also unanticipated," Skon said. "And is also welcome. Spock, is your father with you?"

"He is with Solkar, doing a...ride-along? They will be here at the end of Solkar's shift."

"Ah. He is gaining practical experience in tending injured and ill humans by accompanying an experienced healer on his rounds. Quite logical, since he spends as much time on Earth as Father and we do." Skon folded the ladder and stepped back. Kirk looked down at the plain sign that had been removed and understood the problem. Most Vulcans would not appreciate "We should combine our different body parts with great enthusiasm." Skon turned to his wife, not-smiling sweetly. "Your father was amused by the old one."

"Mestral would be," Rana muttered. " _You_ certainly are." She picked up the sign. "Shall we?" Did she actually smirk at him? "Ahem. Go into the building and greet the rest of them?"

With both physical meetings and Vulcan family being the rarity that they were, even followers of Surak were exchanging news of marriages and images of babies on the way. The Jarok followers and k'turr didn't pretend not to be happy in one another's presence, so in spite of what promised to be a grueling mission the room bubbled with restrained joy. At one time, Kirk couldn't have felt it. On New Vulcan, those around him had lost most of their control from the poisoning, while he had gained the ability to read them. Some of what Spock called damage was permanent. Kirk didn't mind, especially when Sarek made his way around the gathering.

"My sons." Anyone looking on wouldn't have known how tempted Sarek was to throw his arms around both of them. He thought the sentiment back. "Nyota is well?"

"Very well, and wished you to know she regrets not being able to be here today. We visited her family for a week, attended the hearing, then she went back to work installing and testing the new communications system we developed for use on the mission. We tested it enroute and it appears to work, but she wants further verification before it is used in a critical situation."

"There is very little you cannot do together." _And I am so proud._ "I received my results, which were what I expected. I understand yours were less so?"

"Indeed. Possible with a human, but Vulcan children of mine will require assistance."

"Mine were equally unequivocal. It is not possible for me to father a child naturally, given a mate of either species. I had not appreciated what a wonder you and Ruven actually are." _And he said that out loud!_ "But that news gives us leave for the mission."

"Hey, you three." If Nick Mestral had ever been subtle as a Vulcan, sixty-five years of exposure to Carbon Creek coal miners had finished it. In theory over two hundred years old, he had spent so much time in stasis or time travel that he was barely Sarek's age and younger than his own daughter Rana. He surrounded Kirk with invisible affection. "You're staying with us tonight, right, Jim?"  
"It makes sense," Kirk agreed. "Early start in the morning and we'll be here late."

"We don't sleep much but even for us this is ridiculous, trying to train, go and get back before the Federation Council can argue. I told the old goat he should book today off, but he's still making up days he missed on New Vulcan."

The old goat in question, Sarek's other grandfather Solkar, appeared and loomed over Nick's shoulder. Tall and broad-shouldered even for a Vulcan, he looked like walking murder in his black paramedic scrubs. Kirk knew better. He had been an excellent ambassador and was now an equally excellent healer. "Slow day. From here on it won't be. I regret to see you two can go along."

"Father and Silek were rejected for fertility," Sarek said. "Spock and I may go."

"I get to go. Nick goes because who'd want more of his genes anyway? Unless you need them, Jim," John amended. "I suppose he does have his uses."

"The ones he just gave me seem to work. I stuck my face in a flower and didn't explode. Bones ran all the challenge tests to make sure it was safe."

Bones had planted himself at Kirk's other shoulder, doubtless to defend him from the horde of hobgoblins. "No offense to Starfleet, but I don't know why they let you off planet with allergies that bad. Between Khan _ahem_ -" most of the Vulcans knew, but there was no sense saying it aloud- "and Nick's stem cells, you ought to be too mean for anything out there to even think about killing you."

John tilted his head to squint at him. "Yes, you do look acceptably green now."

"First time anybody said _that_ to me," Kirk grinned. "It usually scares people."

Nick eyed him up in the afternoon light. "When a human is that shade I'm careful about staying out of hurling range. Dr. McCoy, nice job on the ears. I'll remember that if I ever need mine bobbed."

Bones cringed. "Ow! That even sounds painful."

"Nah, they grow back. Think about it. We fought all the time and ear tips got bitten or ripped off. Takes them a few months to look right again if you don't boost them. Maggie and I talked about that in case we got pointy kids, but the three who lived back when came out round."

"Oh, it's recessive?"

"Give the kid a gold star! One gene, partial recessive. My job lately has been to find which of thousands of volunteers can carry Vulcan babies. Three Betazoid genes have to be there: cyanide resistance, tolerance to cuproglobin and not-hemochromatosis. We expect them on Vulcan, but they turned up all over Earth. Betazed had warp drive five hundred years before us with a lot of crashed ships and no problem blending in at all. Then we started finding _our_ genes scattered around. Maasai, Cheyenne, Shawnee ... there's a reason Shanai City sounds similar and the district capital was Chal'ga'tha. We even know which ship crashed where and which clans married into the natives. As for Serbia, half of Carbon Creek was Serbian back then and they figured I was some kind of relative. My father-in-law and I used to talk to each other without using English. It's been a revelation. Many of the elders aren't pleased."

"That is not logical," Spock said. "What is, is."

"Since when has their brand of logic been logical? I'll call it a belief system, but not logic. That's why I bailed out on getting rescued way back when, best thing I ever did. Glad my kid finally got her head around that idea." Nick nudged the padd with his knuckles as Rana came up.

Sarek's mother looked at the padd for a second, puzzled, shook her head ever so slightly and raised an eyebrow, so Spocklike that Kirk hid a smile. "We're ready to start, sa'mekh. I should say we're as ready as we're likely to be."


	3. Chapter 3

Half my heart is in the stars

the world was ours

and every day she brought me something new

the world's gone dark

forget what's left

the stars can have it all...

-"Half My Heart" copyright 2258 D. Wanders/J. Grayson

Combat Medicine 101, Introduction to Hell

 _Fan-tor. Fan-wilat. Fan-wat._

 _Anything. Anyplace. Anytime._

 _-Air Galactica motto_

Training for the mission began that evening in the big chamber that had served as a Eugenics War shelter and was now the Carbon Creek community room. A plaque on the wall recalled the 1958 mine explosion in which Nick Mestral had been a hero; another recorded the mine's life as a shelter and all the people who survived because of it. If the whitewashed, sealed walls and supported ceiling made it safe, the memory of unlikely days of salvation made it feel that way.

They needed peace. Any illusions about T'Khasi's ancient warfare left within the first minute and Kirk was lucky his lunch didn't go with them. The full-motion holovid from the Guardians of Forever let the seminar start on the battlefield as night fell. Worse yet, Ko'ku Lia was the mistress of ceremonies, and her acceptance of things others couldn't look at without barfing wasn't always as helpful as she thought. She surveyed the queasy roomful with a faintly distressed expression as she leaned back against the main table in her haze-gray fatigues with the sleeves rolled. "A little much?"

No one else was talking, so Spock did. "Yes."

"Uh, yeah, ko'kuk," he agreed. He wasn't sure when she had become Aunt Lia, any more than he could remember calling Sarek sa'mi for the first time; it happened as seamlessly as if it were natural.

Her expression hadn't been hard, but it softened a bit even so. "It's going to look like that. It's going to be like that. We weren't nice people back then and we did some rotten things to one another. On that side of the Zone, it's still everyday stuff. I'm going to pause the vid and let fa'sa Solkar do our introduction instead."

The Council of Elders had named their public relations campaign the Gathering of the Remnant. The outcast community was quick to come up with The Scraping of the Barrel, The Rounding Up Of The Mavericks and All Is Forgiven If You Have A Working Uterus, but even they agreed on the need for genetic diversity. "The most logical method," Solkar intoned in his deep velvet voice, "is to slingshot back to when thousands died in two major battles within a three-day span. We can safely retrieve anyone who had no children and is known not to have returned from the war. For those who can survive with modern treatment but could not live in their own time, we offer a chance at a new life. Bodies were cremated on the battlefield, so their absence is highly unlikely to be felt."

The still pictures were easier to look at. Continual warfare had come to a head at the Battle of Mount Seleya and a day later the Battle of the Salt Marsh. Three warring nations' capital cities made the corners of a triangle, Gol in the mountains, Kir far northeast on the old seashore and ShiKahr at the foot of Seleya, with smaller cities like Shanai and Low Springs scattered around. The nations had been at relative peace until, one day with no warning, the army of Gol jumped ShiKahr from the south while the Kiri armies charged across the desert through, and over, the suburb of Shanai.

Spaceflight was in its infancy, with a few unmanned probes to what would be Romulus, a landing on nearby T'Kuht and a lot of ill-informed people believing they could build rockets to escape the perpetual shooting. As the worst battle in Vulcan history raged, many rushed to leave with results as disastrous as the fighting. At the end of seven days, the city of Gol was flattened, half of ShiKahr and most of Kir had been destroyed and nearly half a million people were dead or missing.

Most field medics were men, which worked out nicely for the female-short Remnant. Trios were the norm, healer, aide and slave to haul burdens. Not long ago, no one would have been allowed to look at the pre-Reform records, but those who had barred access were gone, so the committee had quickly assembled everything from correct uniforms to field rations in proper wrappers. Experienced time travelers, including Nick, got up to share what they had learned, from how to speak properly to how to swear improperly should the need arise, and after that, reluctantly, they tackled the vid again and were not quite so stunned. At long last, Lia steepled her fingers and inclined her head slightly. "That's all for today. Your study materials for morning should be on your padds."

When most of the crowd made for the door, he sat for a bit, staring down at his notes. If any of them made sense in the morning, he decided, he'd be shocked. Spock put a hand to his back, between the shoulderblades, in a spot that somehow brought instant comfort. "Bear in mind that most of us have already studied this extensively...not by choice...in school."

"Or came around a corner and saw it live and in color," Lia said. "My mother-in-law had a place downtown near the Senate. We were staying there between missions, I took the girls out for a walk and we happened on a Tal Shiar visit that had gone into the street."

"In front of little kids."

"Most wars happen in front of children," she grimaced. "Mine included. I hope this new little one never has to look at what the others have seen."

In the Carbon Creek Veterans of Foreign Wars, Sarek and Spock went to the pool room with Nick while Kirk jarred some of the chest wound protocol loose from the tangle in his head. He was on his second beer when a big bony hand on the back of his neck uncrumpled most of the tension. "We stuffed your head too full."

"Yes." There was no use lying to John Solkar; he already knew with skin to skin contact.

"Hmm, that's not all, either. Why don't we sit over there in the corner?" The invitation was by no means an order, but he wouldn't excuse himself. They took their drinks to the corner table with their backs to the wall and a view of the door; Kirk wondered whether he had the same need or knew Kirk's. "So, you didn't expect that shore leave out of yourself...?"

He was a healer of minds as well as bodies, and good at both. Kirk wondered whether he'd have survived his nightmares had Solkar not come to take care of him on that just out of the hospital night. _Call me John. People need a name, and Solkar is too much for some bad situations._ This was one of those. "Dumb stunt. I wouldn't think twice if one of my friends...I'd make fun of them, but they were on leave, half in the bag, he got paid, why not? Okay, so the antibiotics worked and I only have two more weeks to, er, wait. But it's me, it didn't feel right and I don't know why I did it."

"I had a bad case of broken bond syndrome from my first wife, and in that desperation I did a lot I'm not proud of. I've been around your mind and so do you. Where your father tore away has edges that can't be smoothed. They saved your life twice, dealing with that monster of a stepfather and again on Tarsus 4, but that's why you do things you don't understand."

"Seven psychiatrists and therapists so far, and you're the first one who put it that bluntly."

John made a _Well?_ gesture with his drink. "They didn't have the access I do. Or possibly the sexual orientation. No point in lying, is there? There's also no point in my lying about what you know I do under great stress: drink too much, drive too fast and use any other intoxicant I find. I don't think you have that last problem, but you have the first two. Evidently we also both resort to self-destructive sex." He had a sip of his bourbon. "Why are you with us?"

"I want to help."

"Yes. You do, with great sincerity. Because?"

"Because you're my friends." He took a deep breath. "Because with Spock it's more than that, he's...I know he's not interested in me that way-"

"Neither is Nick interested in me like that, so I get it. You were about to say 'but.' So?"

"There's some...connection...? I've never felt anywhere else. You know what kind of crew I have. Bones can be a terrified old lady, but he's there every time I need him and I'd do anything for him. That's huge, that gut-deep human friendship I never expected. But Spock. I didn't even _like_ him and he tried to kill me twice and still...and still. By the time we got on Nero's ship it was right that I'd offer to cover him and he'd trust me with his life."

"Believe me." John smiled, unguarded. "I get it. Friend. Brother. If sexual preferences are compatible, lover. Beyond the bond itself, which can be all but unbreakable, some fundamental pull of the universe always seems to bring t'hy'la together. Like the stronger version of the old Vulcan saying: we may try to avoid family, but family always finds us."

"I hope most of mine won't bother. I do wonder about my grandparents I barely knew, whether they'd have been all right or not when they took me in, whether...aah, I'm a grown man."

"And I'm a grown bisexual k'turr, and I still want most of my family around. And that nut case of a Syrannite in-law," he raised his voice as Nick approached.

That got him lovingly (Kirk couldn't call it anything else) rapped on the head with a pool cue. "So Janko, we getting ready for morning or what here?"

"Or what. Have you shown him the cemetery?"

"You're right. Give him a good case of the creeps." Nick motioned him along. "Come and see."

Much to his surprise, Sarek's mother walked up with them. The graveyard on the outskirts of town had once served a church, destroyed like most in the wars. "By the way, I felt you wondering. Janko, Jhan'kam, Serbian, Golic, both Johnny, same words, so many places. This was all overgrown," Nick waved at the graveyard. "I came back to help clean up the radiation after contact." Everblooming roses spilled over a wall of rough sandstone around the old graves, their markers a mix of new and old survivors. The wall itself had a lot of brass plaques, which he realized hid urns. "During all the trouble, people built the wall to stash the urns and remembered which rocks were theirs. Soon as the fighting was over, they went back and marked. The gravestones didn't all do so well, but ours was safe under a bunch of berry canes." Nick knelt to brush away grass clippings and make a small prayerful gesture. The stone read Mestral at the top, under it Maria Magdalena 1918-2023 and Nicholas George Sr. 1918-2024. Nick patted Maggie's name. "Hi, sweetheart." A third small panel caught Kirk's eye: Zorana Elisabeta 1962. "I built her a stasis box in case her heart could be fixed someday. Shows you how sentimental Vulcans can get with exposure to humans. Not a bad thing, only so you know."

T'Rana bent down to touch the small stone. "Did you name me for her, sa'mi?"

"Sort of." Was there more Nick wanted to say? "This mission is going to put us all through the wringer. Try not to get hurt, okay, kid?"

Lying upstairs at Nick's house, he tried to remember the last time he had willingly and happily spent a night at a private home on Earth. Nick's wife's ship was in town, and they were in the kitchen talking over their days, discussing his mission and her next trip. It was nothing like his mother's rare visits with Frank. The first minutes' overblown endearments always turned into bitter whispers, then screaming and worse. He couldn't imagine Nick screaming at anyone, let alone trying to hit her. As they went by to their room, he sensed a friendly passion as comfortable as an old sweatshirt.

He was welcome, that was what was different. He wasn't in the way; he happened to be there and no one minded. The couple kept double bunkbeds in the room for grandchildren, and instead of feeling juvenile, it felt safe to slide into the bottom bunk. Spock had been in the top bunk talking to Nyota earlier, then had been looking over the class materials, laid them aside to meditate and fell asleep instead. He looked much less dangerous when he slept, and it was clear from the warm hum of his aura that he, too, felt safe and wanted here. Even Sarek seemed to be more settled among most of his remaining family. "My home may be in the stars," Kirk said to himself, "but here isn't bad." He, too, fell asleep with the next day's notes on his mind.

Kirk had always been one of the brightest students in any class. After too much need to patch himself up after Frank, the crazies on the colony, or ill-advised lovers and bar fight opponents had pummeled him, he had taken all of the Starfleet cross-training short of medical school because it was interesting, useful, easy for him and most of all a diversion.

Being the slow kid in class was a revelation. The amount of information he was expected to absorb in that fourteen-hour day might have been impossible had he not been through hell on New Vulcan. From time spent with Spock's father and John Solkar, he knew healers worked with their minds as much as with instruments, with their sensitive hands as much as with electronic sensors. The ambassadors had all learned the hard way to train as ulen-hassu, paramedics, before going out, because minor emergencies could become major when no one on a mission could treat Vulcans. The further brutally concentrated training Sarek had undertaken after va'Pak made him roughly a nurse-practitioner, capable of managing most physical emergencies and ordinary mental injuries for his large and woebegone, mostly orphaned young embassy staff. Even offworlders had undertaken the same rapid learning in honor of Vulcan friends or family.

The current rapid training was going to take all of them, including returned Romulan, camouflaged human and Betazoid-hybrid volunteers, to the level of elite combat medics, provided they could sip knowledge from a fire hose. The combination of mind and body in relation to illness and injury was daunting. Halfway through the third hour the current presenter asked "How many are psi-null or consider themselves impaired?" To his amazement, his wasn't the only hand that went up. "Have your team's primary healer meld with you before your mission for access to their psi controls. We estimate that will enable you to perform mental first aid and shield you from the inevitable harmful exposures."

"I hadn't thought of that," he murmured to Spock beside him.

"Nor had I considered it. I should pay more attention."

"Yes," said the healer without a trace of a smile, though they could feel it hanging over them. Even Spock thought _?!_ "What those of you who were not born Vulcan are doing is commendable, but not without risk. There is an eighty-six percent chance that your team will have at least one casualty. We will attempt to retrieve our killed or injured, but be aware that if it is unsafe for the other team members, the body must be destroyed and it is uncertain whether an unlinked katra can be saved. Meld, people. Strongly."

That was only the first jarring moment. The details he would need in order to help a battlefield healer grew hourly, and he had the horrible suspicion that Spock already knew most of them. Twice he bailed Kirk out by laying a hand on his arm to give him some emergency bit of knowledge a Vulcan schoolchild would have had. During a pause he muttered "Jim, you're keeping up. Others are starting from much further back."

"Thinking this hard is a new experience," he sighed, "and like a lot of mine, unpleasant."

Mestral (Kirk reminded himself _don't call him Nick when we're on the planet, he's Mestral there)_ was sitting next to them. "Coming up against our limitations seldom is, but it has to happen to make us grow. If every door opened easily, we'd never learn to pick locks."

He searched for the source of the quote. The usual fall-back guess was "Surak?"

"Bob Hravat, guy I used to work with at the coal mine," Nick said, patting his back. "You'll get this. I don't make stupid kids and they don't have stupid friends."

When he staggered out of the seminar room with his head overfilled again, Spock nearly made him melt down when he said "Tomorrow should be easier. It's only twelve hours."

"My brain may not literally explode, but it feels as if facts are oozing from my ears. We'll be dealing with critical injuries. If I get this wrong I'll kill someone."

Spock's dark eyes were downcast. "Many of our decisions can kill multiple people at once. After my killing six and a half billion by mistake, one life at a time is very nearly a relief."

"You're not still..." Yes, he was blaming himself, and not mildly. "You do not get to take the blame for _that_. Not having information you need does not amount to fault. You're why there's anything left at all."

"And why we're doing this," Sarek said, drifting up behind them. "It was his idea."

"You will need to take care of the meld," Spock said.

Kirk looked him over uneasily. "You sure you're okay?"

 _Yes_ , he heard, and felt the gratitude behind it. "I'm going to call Nyota for the results of the communications test." _I want to hear her voice. I need it as much as yours. You understand. Thank you for understanding. Prime is right. I need to be beside you_. "You need to meld with Sarek."


	4. Chapter 4: Meld and Meltdown

Spock left the two of them in the hallway not looking at each other for several difficult minutes until Sarek broke the silence. "Not here. Too many people." He started down the hall, and Kirk joined him, sensing growing uneasiness from what should have been a hard-shielded mind.

Should have been. Was it? Sarek had been exposed, as they all had, to levels of Trellium-D that if left untreated had killed many Vulcans in the past. Neither his control nor Spock's was likely to recover completely. Given an ordinary, calm life on T'Khasi, it might not have been distressing, but an empath who had a catalog of misery behind him even before va'Pak needed all the shields he could get. Kirk had witnessed Sarek knock a Tal Shiar admiral into helpless madness in less than five minutes with a few of his selected memories.

The thought came to his mind from some back room. _He's_ _afraid I'm going to see what he went through in that prison, and he's ashamed even if he'll never admit it. He doesn't realize I already saw it when he was fighting with Hakeev. If he knew what happened to me, maybe it'll help him._

 _Or maybe he'll be horrified the way that Starfleet therapist was, and never talk to you again-_

 _No. I'm going to show him._

The old mine entry now led to the center and its offices on one side and what was labeled as the Black Chapel of St. Nicholas on the other, with several smaller meditation rooms beyond. The chapel, one of the mine's early rooms, held an altar with candles burning in boxes of sand. Beyond it, they found an empty meditation room and sat awkwardly contemplating one another. Sarek cleared his throat and said "If you are prepared."

 _Nervous? Him? No. All but paralyzed with fear._ Kirk nodded. "Go ahead. It's all right."

Sarek raised a hand carefully, fingers splayed, but hesitated. Did he know Kirk could see him debate the damage he might do, the ruin he had caused to Hakeev? Ah; the thoughts hung in the air, clear as bells. He hadn't melded with anyone outside the family since then. Even his main instructors in healing were his uncle and grandfather, who linked to him long ago and were big, tough, fully Vulcan and highly skilled. "If any part of this is too intense, and you need me to stop, tell me immediately."

"Of course." Say it, or not? Say it. Sarek needed to hear it aloud. "Sa'mi, I trust you implicitly. You're not going to hurt me. You wouldn't. I'm safe with you."

A human that frightened would have beensweating buckets. Sarek kept the outward signs to a tiny hand tremor that could have been explained away by the toxin's aftereffects. "It doesn't always work that way. You saw what can happen if I lose control."

"What had to happen when you gave up control in order to save us. This is not that and now is not then. Spock and I have done this a number of times in the line of duty because it's so efficient. Let me show you the memory I hide."

He couldn't initiate the meld himself, but once Sarek did he could steer. _Now let me show you why I understand._ The Vulcan's sharp intake of breath preceded astonishment, vast guilt, shame, sudden thunderstruck relief. Only the form was new to Kirk; he understood the urge to hide when it was useless, the wish to run when there was nowhere to get away. The violence of buried Vulcan emotions was no longer so strange and did not shock him. He turned their minds to all of that. _I understand. It's all right. You can see anything in there if you want to. It may help_.

Fail to escape a Tal Shiar prison on broken feet? No better than failing to escape a house as a small child with a broken ankle. "He must have fallen off the swings," his stepfather said to some social worker in a long line of them. "You know how kids are."

Bedroom door locked from the outside and windows nailed shut for a week of hot weather? Chained to the wall of the cell for days at a time.

Waiting for the interrogator to come up the stairs, never sure what today's misery would be? Waiting for Frank to come upstairs, never sure how drunk he was. Pain was coming, either way; what would it be on that day, on that long night?

Waiting for morning on Tarsus 4. Would there be food today? Who would get the extra half a cracker and what would he have to do for it? Who would die? Waiting for footsteps on the stairs. Which room first, his or the one next door? Would there be screams or whimpers down the hall? Would they be cut off in mid-howl with the dragging noises after?

Freedom? Ever? There were the commandos bursting in. There was the day the Corvette went into the quarry, causing enough trouble to make people clue in to what they should have known.

 _How fast?_ He saw a Harley speedometer pegged on a straight flat desert highway. _Death Valley. I prefer the ride on summer nights_.

 _Top down, flying,at least a hundred and fifty klicks an hour, probably more. I didn't look, I only felt. If we go fast enough, what bothers us is left behind us_.

So _?_ A well-tuned flitter knifed between rock formations and carved sand over the Forge, leaving every nerve alive and bright against the dark behind it.

 _Yes. That. Where's your music?_

A mental playlist began. _The elders disapproved of most of it_.

 _They don't know what they were missing_.

 _They missed so very much. Our sacrifices were largely unnecessary and often harmful. Peace and contentment were the goals. We had stagnation. Surak said to cast out fear. We deified it. Spock designed the_ Kobayashi Maru _believing humans were unafraid because they were unaware. He didn't know his own human half was talking if he had listened to it_.

 _He does now. Better, at least._ He showed the brief version of the day help came to Tarsus 4 _. Afterward, everyone acted as if I were an unexploded bomb. It led me to act like one._

Sarek shared a quick image of Lhairre smashing off the chains, bending over the limp sack of fever and broken bones that was left of him and scooping him up with terrible tenderness, stepping over the jailers' bodies as he ran out of the building with Lia as a rear guard. _Privacy was a given, but nothing travels faster than Vulcan gossip. There is a general understanding of what happens when the Tal Shiar abuse a prisoner. An unbonded male is unlikely to have a choice of mates afterward._

 _But you were so young. When the next Time came, you'd have died._ He had a fuzzy image of a young man staggering out into the desert and collapsing.

Sarek confirmed the image. _I was expected to do so quietly, without complaint, and preferably on a different planet where only my parents would be required to know of my disposal._

 _Sa'mi, that is utterly disgusting. You did nothing wrong._

 _You did nothing wrong either._

 _Yes, but people said they were trying to help. Maybe that's worse than just writing me off._

Some of it he thought in words, some only in quick images. _The Earth embassy had been our family's post. When they took Rea to Gol, I went to Earth as Father's aide. The prison injuries had barely healed when I was shot._ Another image of a heartbroken Skon and Solkar at his bedside arguing gently with other healers who shook their heads: no, too dangerous, that bullet must remain, the heart is damaged, his life will be cut short either way. _I became that sickly child again. It went on for years, especially after Grandfather's last assassination when no one else seemed able to help me as he had. Mother tried two more mates for me, but I could not bond with them. After the second, the healers gave up and told my parents to cherish what time we had._

 _My brother brought his friend to visit in case fresh topics of conversation would help, but I was too ill to get off the sofa and greet her properly._ There was Amanda, young and vivacious, sweeping into the room like a cloud of joy as he tried to struggle upright. _She always said Silek did everything but throw us into a room and nail the door shut._

 _He wasn't interested?_

 _In having her as family, yes. In having her in his life to read romantic poetry with, yes. As a wife, no. He's not ordinarily sexually attracted to anyone and was afraid he'd deprive her of what she was very fond of, but she was very dear to him and he to her. Best friends, I believe you would say?_ There was the great dark ragged crater where Amanda belonged, and his brother sobbing aloud on a dark night in the embassy meditation room _._

 _I know. God knows, she loved you._

 _She once told me that getting to know me was like taming an abused horse, frightened and dangerous because of it. She didn't understand how violent being an ambassador is. Solkar came back from his latest assassination attempt three years before Spock was born. By that time, she had been through two of my first three and had to join me in the questionable shuttle crash while she was halfway through pregnancy. He almost lived._

Kirk knew about baby James, who had survived without intervention only to be lost when his mother nearly died of internal injuries. _You gave him a Terran name?_

 _We hadn't thought of a Vulcan one yet. They are traditionally suggested by the parents through the bond unless the child has a strong opinion. Spock's was an idea I had on the way home the day he was born. The latest ancestor to use it was, like him, a very distinguished scientist._

It was only a glimpse, but he knew. _He has a Terran name._

 _From conception. Ask him if you dare._ It was very nearly a playful thought. _For that matter, I do._

 _Terra Prime, Keep Earth Human.._.Another image. The marriage license filed in San Francisco had to look like two humans. _That wasn't right either._ The quiet between them brought a sense of mending on both sides, relief so profound it dampened Kirk's eyes. _And you doubt your skill as a healer, osu?_

The transferred relief was even stronger. _And you doubt yours?_

 _All I ever try to do is fix the broken parts that come my way._

 _Which is why so many broken people do._ The pause was not angry, only meditative, each surveying the other's damage without pity. Instead they found recognition, admiration for their resilience, acceptance, the well-hidden mutual fondness for Spock and his own iron soul. Oh, yes, and the job they were supposed to be taking on. _We have forgotten the matter at hand, have we not?_ Sarek found the relevant areas of his ability and linked them so Kirk would have access to the knowledge _._ On the way past the Black Chapel, Sarek held up a hand for a second and went in. He knelt, lit a thin candle, set it in the sand and retreated. They walked back to Nick's house without another word, but not without peace between them.

The next day's class wasn't as daunting. Much of the morning was escape and evasion, taught by Aunt Lia. Since she had practiced successfully for over sixty years among the Romulans, her insights made him pay attention. He had learned to distinguish one nation from another during the evacuation and his time on New Vulcan; now he learned how to discern rank when often only admirals and generals wore insignia, simply by watching interactions. "No harm will be done if you call a low-ranking aide _osu_ , and it's proper for service members to show that level of respect for any civilian," Lia said, "but not being effusive enough to generals you meet may get you executed because they're jerks."

"Important safety tip," Kirk gulped.

"I doubt they're worse than some of the admirals we've dealt with," Spock said blandly, loud enough for his aunt to hear.

"You are correct," Lia agreed, straight-faced but with an undercurrent of merry menace. Kirk thought back to the image of the long-ago commando raid to retrieve Sarek, and didn't want to think about how the dead jailers got that way. "Practice today and on the way: bow slightly with your hands folded for one of equal rank, more for an elder or a superior, and seriously if an angry general is near."

Kirk thought, louder than he meant to, _The madder they are, the fancier you salute_. He forgot she could hear him. "Captain, you have extensive education in Federation military customs, while many of our volunteers have no military experience and little contact with soldiers. Are you open to answering questions? I realize not everything will transfer, but there are many similarities."

He got to his feet and bowed ostentatiously. "As you wish, most esteemed fleet admiral." Being grilled felt more natural than sweating over memorization. He answered questions for ten minutes before it dawned on him that Aunt Lia had bailed him out by giving him a task in which he had supreme confidence. He shot a sidewise glance at her, and she winked.

In the afternoon, they trained in their teams. It went without saying that John and Nick would be together as Team One, taking along the admiral's husband Lhairre. Kirk, Spock and Sarek became Team Nine. The admiral demonstrated the last of their uniforms and equipment and showed another hologram from the Guardians of Forever so they would see the way the gear moved in actual use, mercifully during an ancient training exercise and a parade.

"Triads have always been the standard in most military operations, with the occasional addition of a fourth to carry, pilot, drive or stand reserve where there is high probability of loss. Sniper, spotter, medic. Lead intel, sub and guard. Psi warrior, backup and sentry. In this case, it's medic, aide and burden bearer. When you're suited up, we'll have the historian check that nothing has gone amiss." The admiral observed everyone's technique and pointed out the extras for those in certain situations. She even covered how to open field rations without making noise, once again enlisting Kirk to show some of what he had learned. "You will find people in dire need, especially on the second and third nights,so be careful in offering food. Jim understands. If there are a large number of hungry, they may rush the team. Even dried fruit packets can save a life because of the quick energy. While you cannot risk being identified as modern, the presence of helpful strangers is on the record. Questions?"

And with that, training was over. He wasn't sure what to think except that no one could possibly have taught him enough. "It could take longer," Sarek said, "but knowledge is one thing, the ability to act upon it another. Diplomacy is the same way."

"I should review tonight."

"No, you should sleep," Spock said. "And I should meditate. But first, Jim, you should eat, because you are once again forgetting, and so are you, Father."

"And that spaghetti sauce in the cooker at home won't take care of itself. Come on," Nick growled. "We'll be living off whatever soon enough."


	5. Chapter 5: Anything, Anywhere, Anytime

Anything, Anywhere... _Anytime_

While the ground teams had been training, so had the medical support teams who would be taking in and treating the retrieved people and animals. The slingshot vehicle, the large Air Galactica cargo vessel _Shaishonna_ , just fit inside the massive auxiliary cargo bay on the dreadnought _Seleya_. "If they don't see it, the Federation can't complain," Lia explained as she led the way from the bay to the bigger ship. "As far as they know, the _Seleya_ will be on routine patrol in its usual role as a medical mercy ship for all of the Vulcan colonies with a side visit to 40 Eridani for what we'll call a religious mission. No lie, we'll drop off the ashes of some recently deceased elders who want to be near the old site. In the meantime, I'd like you all to be familiar with the facilities on board my t'hy'la Rai's ship, which is..."

"Fabulous!" Kirk had met the man. Bones hadn't. It was not possible to look at Captain Rai without wanting to laugh, which was exactly how the big k'turr Golan wanted it. Otherwise, it was unlikely he would have chosen bright lavender fatigues for his entire crew and gobs of gold braid for his own broad, and very tall, shoulders. He was the only Vulcan Kirk could recall wearing a gold earring in one of his small, elegantly pointed ears, bright against his dark skin. Bones managed to keep his reaction to a gulped-back giggle. One of Rai's outflung arms nearly bashed him as Rai lunged toward Lia. "Dyypan susse-thrai, welcome aboooooard!"

"I missed you, knvuk fehill'curak. Next time I'll aim better." What they were doing originated in the Vulcan family greeting, but degenerated into actual hand-slapping and some kind of elbow-bumping maneuver. Bones' translator was working perfectly, judging by his horrified expression and slow edging backwards. She patted the artificial womb shoulder bag Rai was carrying cross-body. "So this one is doing very well, I see. No name yet, sa'bath?"

"He hasn't said anything about it and we haven't come up with anything just yet. We're not even sure how to do his clan name, S'chn T'gai or T'Moran." Rai unzipped the side of the womb to uncover the viewing port. A curious tiny boy, the size of a human newborn but likely still several months from wanting to be on the outside, peered out. "He's just growing like a grapevine, tall and skinny as Silek, and look at _you_ , Ta'an," Rai said to the admiral's belly. "You're growing sooooo fast! You'll be running Engineering before I know it. It's so much fun to be pregnant together."

"You know Khart'lan Kirk, but this is Dr. Leonard McCoy. Len, I believe you've figured out this is my Rai. He and my baby brother decorated this ship, so any compliments or complaints go to him. Shall we give him the tour, Rai?"

"But of course." He swept a hand toward the corridor. "The wards are this way."

Compared to the dark warship décor aboard Lia's flagship, the _Seleya_ was all muted shades, dim lighting and peace. There was soft upbeat music in the background and art on the walls, not hard-edged traditional Vulcan art but desert flowers and abstract collages in tasteful pastels. Had he not known it was a ship, he would have assumed he was in a very well-appointed hospital meant for VIPs. "Silek picked out most of the art and I matched the colors, once we got over here to finish fixing it up," Rai said proudly. "Do you like it, Doctor?"

"I've been in a lot of hospitals," Bones said, "but I have serious envy right now. How?"

"Oh, that. Remember, part of the idea of having these great big ships was to wreck the Romulan defense budget. Cost overruns were our thing. If there was a piece of medical equipment we could use in the Empire—or smuggled across the Zone, better yet, so we could make it even more expensive—we have it. When va'Pak happened, we were twice as glad we did it. Being around pro football as long as I was before this line of work gave me an eye for what works for patients. I'm no doctor, mind you, just a big old offensive tackle, really offensive if the wrong people decide to bother mine."

"I'll try not to do that," Bones gulped.

"While we're waiting on the other end of your slingshot, we're going to make a big old patrol loop just like everything's normal and come back right as they do. Can't have the Federation asking questions, you know? You can train on any of the equipment you want, get used to working with our other senior staff and all of you finalize your plans, as much as you can before you see what comes back. Most of the Vulcan doctors we have are just back from Romulan prisons or used to be Romulans, so everybody starts fresh except Davy Wanders and T'Khai Judy. By the time we pick up all the retrievals, you'll be all set to take care of them."

"And have everything I can imagine to do it with," Bones admitted.

Two days out, the go teams separated from the medical staff aboard the _Seleya_. Kirk honestly thought Bones was going to cry. He looked at Spock once as if he were about to ask something and couldn't bear to. Spock gave him the faintest hint of exasperation and said "You know I will."

Nick walked by, sized up the situation and patted the doctor's shoulder. "Anybody gets after these two, they'll deal with me first, how's that?"

"He's not bad for a hobgoblin," Bones sighed, "but, you two-"

"Doctor. Behave while we are gone," Spock said. "Otherwise, you will deal with Aunt Lia."

That made it easier to walk down the hallway and board the smaller ship inside the cargo bay. As soon as they vacated the space, Captain Rai's crew would begin unfolding the panels and wiring boards that would convert the huge hold into space for rescued animals and people.

Lia had come to the smaller ship with her husband and their doctor daughter. While she was as outwardly calm as Spock, he could feel the impact letting go of all of them was having on her. "I'll do my best, Aunt Lia," he said.

She gave him a wrenched-out half-smile. "You all be careful. As I said before, we weren't nice people and we did rotten things."

The doctor bit her lip, doubtless thinking no one noticed. "I'd better get back, sa'mi, sa'kuk Sarek. Spock, take care of your human. He looks far too Vulcan for his own good right now." She came close to running down the hallway.

Sarek flicked his eyes toward the interior of the ship, and Kirk took the hint to leave the admiral to her husband. He glanced back once to see them hands clasped and heads bowed, Lhairre murmuring "Don't worry, elev."

They turned a corner and Spock looked down at his padd. "Ah. From Nyota. It still works." He paused. "The new system. It will be necessary to test it periodically."

"Of course." At one time, that many people around him taking leave of loved ones would have made him boil with jealousy just as the enforced celibacy would have nagged at him. This felt different. The sense of aloneness that had plagued him anytime he was off his ship had been pushed away by...family? He felt Spock's glance, looked up to see it with one of those tiny flickers of smile and the silent thought: _you catch on slowly for a genius_.

The merchant marine ship had a large cargo bay and a smaller passenger compartment with small staterooms lining a cabin and galley which were together the size of _Enterprise's_ bridge. The teams went aboard and stowed their gear, then returned to the cabin for a final briefing from the ship's captain, who, in another magnificent act of nepotism, happened to be family as well. Kirk approved highly, having seen the kind of help the captain was in a crisis. Besides, though he had met Ru only a few months before, he had become fond of him as quickly as he had of Spock.

In his Air Galactica black, hands clasped behind his back, Captain Ruven addressed them without ceremony. "Your datasets will appear as period-correct but have full modern capability. The controls should be self-explanatory. Each team has its list of critical retrievals and locators, as well as safe beam-down and return spots. You will also find the app to verify that anyone else you find dying will have no further impact on T'Khasi. Of course, the whole object is to affect _our_ future."

The entire gathering agreed. "Younger, childless women are the priority if the sitch does not permit full retrieval. Consent is imperative if the person is conscious. If they are not, bring them. They will be in shock when they find themselves here, but won't everyone? For our non-Vulcan volunteers, temperature, gravity and atmosphere are at surface normal on our way out so you can acclimate. Primary medics, remember their Triamox..." He went on confirming assignments. "Team Nine, Sarek, Spock and Kirk, Shanai Guards evac hospital inside D'H'Riset..." At list's end, he looked around and cracked a smile. "You got all that?"

"Not even close, but it's on my padd," John Solkar yawned pointedly.

"It should be, sa'mi. You're the one who scheduled most of it." Ru had grown up as Solkar's son, and the easy way the two of them teased made Kirk jealous in a way he couldn't tolerate in himself. He couldn't think it too loudly, because Ru was as much an empath as his biological father. "Just for that, _you_ do the pickup speech."

Solkar put his huge voice in full Ambassador Making A Declaration mode. "The white zone is for loading and unloading only..." Mestral whacked him. "Not that kind of pickup? As your training has already taught, arrange your wounded in standard transporter platform configurations, with those you judge most critical in the first upload. Two beam-ups per team per mission are scheduled in predawn hours to minimize any chance of pre-warp contact. Imminent deaths you cannot stabilize will be case by case. Secure all potential spine injuries, no matter how minor, on backboards before transport and offer sedation to anyone conscious because I have experience with being beamed up with multiple broken bones and can assure you that it really frickin' hurts. "

"Very good, sa'mi. 'Really frickin' hurts' is a medical term, correct?" Details went on: the project had identified five hundred either in the black-tag ward of field hospitals or on the road who might be recovered on the first night. They reviewed assignments on the widely scattered field, areas to avoid and retrievals with family suitable for rescue.

Solkar reminded them that the Council had tried to ask advice from Surak's katra since he had been a slave at the battle. _va'Pak_ had such a profound effect on him that his soul had been all but silent in the months since, saying only "I require seclusion." Since that meant a Vulcan, with or without a body, should _not_ be left alone, the healers tried to brighten his ark with news of babies in the family and crops on newly terraformed planets. He finally said "I suppose that's pleasant enough," and began to comment, in a weary way, on some of the issues, complaining that it would take far less effort to "just fix it all with that time travel you're so fond of." The elders passed along his suggestions, the scientists decided it was worth a long-term shot and began their calculations, and for the meantime the Office of Temporal Distortion Research consulted the Guardians of Forever.

"No one in this room who goes down to the planetary surface is to be left behind, dead or alive," the mission commander repeated. "Anyone who dies or is too badly injured to be extricated must be cremated on the spot. No one can know us as modern unless they're coming up, they're alive now or there is _definite_ historical record of their having suspected contact, as in the case of General T'Shaara. You _may,_ in fact Surak thinks we _must_ , render aid to known survivors, including him."

"So we'll be there because we should have been there. Verb tenses become confusing," Mestral said with all the solemnity he could manage. "We bring the last load up to the ship and then-?"

"And then the healers and aides all clear out to decon, get something to eat and most of all drink, and rest. The primary healers are going to be under heavy stress the whole time and should avoid the wards as long as possible. Curiosity about a patient's status can be fulfilled on the net. All healers, especially our full-bore empaths, remember to ground before you treat, when you return and as often as necessary while you're working. That minute it takes you may seem wasted, but we all know how critical it is."

Ru nudged Kirk with a padd carrying a vid of an unborn baby girl. "That's our Kariin, Winter. Wouldn't you know, she's a full empath." He added silently _We didn't want to name her Amanda in case Spock and Nyota want the name someday, so we named her for our sister Karen who didn't make it_.

 _I got it, and that is a beautiful idea._ "The name's as pretty as she is. No Vulcan town is going to be adult-centered any more."

Ru agreed. "A whole new world, in every sense. We were in the minority because we always intended to have a big family. For most, it's an entirely new way of considering matters." He glanced across the room to Sarek, who was talking to another relative. " _Kaiidth_ , but for one extra second to let Spock catch her before she fell. Or for leave to go and get her before."

"What harm could it do? She wasn't going to...I know, I know, people who can reproduce first, but why can't we at least ask?"

"I did. They said to wait. Easy for them. I worried about Sarek even when I thought he was my nephew and twice as much since," Ru agreed. "Amanda was likely to go first, but we hoped it would be decades yet. Kariin may be some comfort to him."

When it came to comfort, having Ru along in the desert would have been major, but he was nothing if not fertile. Besides, the ship needed her captain and their team already had a healer. The object of concern made his way across the room. "Kirk, you are prepared?"

" _Ha, sa'mi._ I know you are."

" _Kaiidth_ , but that it may be so." Ah, the most Vulcan of expressions: "it is what it is, but I hope it turns out my way." Had he been human, he'd have been green around the gills and hyperventilating.

He side-eyed Sarek. "Walk with me." Experience with Spock had taught him that got an upset Vulcan talking without direct eye contact or making them stand still when they were ready to explode. "I know you can do this. I've seen you on New Vulcan. If you can perform under fire directed at you, personally, you can do anything you have to when the shooting is random."

"Not precisely. Some of our targets will require immediate aid far beyond what I have done without a qualified healer ready to intervene." Ah, there it was.

"You _are_ a qualified healer now. Now you know why John Solkar has his bad moments." _And_ , he thought, _why Sarek didn't have this conversation with him, respected healer that he is_.

"That is another concern. Kirk, my birth-son will be reluctant to do this for me. If you see me engaging in unhealthy behaviors, I request that you..." he looked for a word, "...call me on it?"

"I would ask you do the same for me. Sa'mi, we know where we've been and what we've seen and done. We need to be here and do this with him. That won't make it easy, but we're going to do it."

"Damn straight, boy." He hadn't recognized Nick ( _no, he's Mestral now!_ ) for a second because he was wearing actual Vulcan clothing. "Got a real name yet?"

They all stared at one another. With all of their obsessive planning, body modding and Spock's careful mind melds to get his language up to speed, they had missed the one essential that could have fingered them in a heartbeat. What came out of Kirk's mouth was impolite, perfectly pronounced and made Mestral cackle. "Hey, you even learned _that_! It'll come in handy."

"Yes, Nicholas?" The deep voice from over his head was equally unmistakable, and at least he'd seen Solkar ( _remember, don't call him John, don't call Nick that, it's Solkar and Mestral now_ ) in native clothing a few times. "He doesn't have a father-in-law to name him."

"Maggie's dad and I barely spoke English, but we liked each other, so we cobbled conversations together out of Serbian and Syrannite. They're close enough we could fill in by waving our hands around. 'Other name no got, Mestral?' I said 'People mine got clans but only one name got.' 'No good, no good, you need name, nickname, wait, you Nick. Ya. Nikolai. Patron saint, coal miner. Good Serb name, Nicholas George. Ya.' So I was. Wait, kid, your birthday's in spring, right? Sikar has a nice ring to it."

"It also doesn't mark him as one nation or another," John agreed. He turned that calm black gaze on Sarek. "Don't you dare apologize or pretend you aren't nervous. In your terms, the cause is more than sufficient. You. Will. Do. Well."

A Terran would have been tempted to salute at such an order. Sarek merely inclined his head slightly in thanks and turned to look at the screen. The black void where Vulcan belonged was all too clearly visible as the ship began to accelerate toward 40 Eridani.


	6. Chapter 6: Slingshot

Slingshot

A dozen kinds of incense drifted light on the air of the ship's hallways. The vision of emptiness unsettled everyone; on top of that, the roaring psychic echo of the Loss was still too strong for the empaths in the group, who went around with dulled voices and downcast eyes. There was still, and would long be, a great cloud of dust from the Battle of Vulcan and from the many Vulcan transport ships that had tried to leave. The cloud was speckled with small anomalies from the interaction of the distant collapsed black hole with bits of warp cores and fields, so the ship shuddered now and then as they bumped memories. Kirk ( _Sikar_ , he reminded himself, _you are Sikar now_ ) tried to leave no emotions jutting out for the upset to trip over.

"I was out here," one passer-by whispered to another. "All we could do was lock onto large groups and all we had was a cargo transporter. So many aboard were badly hurt from falling or rough transports. That huge ship didn't see us, so we got away, but barely."

"I wasn't sure she and the babies were alive until we unloaded on Earth four days later. There were so many, jammed in so tight, no one could move around to ask. That big inbound freighter took half of us on the second day so the injured could be helped, and they were on the other vessel. When I saw them, I admit I lost control."

"The cause was sufficient. I have never regained it. There was space, we could have taken more, but no time. The ship behind us tore in two and we could pick up only a fraction of those in their hold before it failed entirely."

Anyone who was left had a story, and they all seemed to be murmuring them at once, humans and Betazoids trying to comfort without being obvious. The only remaining Vulcan psychiatrist had tried to prepare them, but Davy was too valuable to bring along in the potentially dangerous slingshot; he was waiting back on the hospital ship with Bones. Kirk's heart ached for Sarek, who was outwardly calm and expressionless but still struggling, with no apparent way to help.

He was relieved when Spock settled on his right with the gentlest of bumps against him and put a hand to his back. _Whatever happens, we have each other_.

"Why is that such an instant relief?"

He felt Spock's instant of _Huh_? then the realization that it was another bit any Vulcan would have known, but humans would have no reason to guess. "That spot is directly over a nerve plexus. It works on all mammalian species and is considered publicly acceptable, especially when dealing with the wounded or small children."

"More important safety tips. You should have come with an owner's manual."

That got him the smirk and the eyebrow. "I am not the one who has so many allergies that Dr. McCoy exhausts his supply of painful things to do to you because he cannot remember which previous attempts caused the problem at hand."

"Touche. I'm still nervous about this whole thing. I know, you don't get nervous."

"Not at all." _And I have learned to lie surprisingly well_.

Ru came over to them, suppressing a grin because he sensed their mutual teasing. "Captain, er, Sikar, several of these healers would like to hear our experiences with slingshot travel."

A dozen doctors, medics and nurses had followed him. Talking about the profound confusion and disorientation they were about to run into shouldn't have helped them, but Sikar was very much aware it did. The small crowd listened attentively when he described the need to keep from falling. Those who hadn't already knelt in a safe place decided to do so even before Ru suggested it.

"I know you're all volunteers, but in my experience this is an ugly way to time-travel. The Guardian is much, much easier, but while it would work very well for busloads of healthy people going to view a historic event, it is not suited for the number of unconscious patients we would have to carry through on this mission without being detected. I'll give you a countdown. Those who can enter a deep meditative state may find it useful to do so by the time I call ten seconds. Either kneel here in the hallway and hold onto the viewscreen sill, or lie down to avoid falling. The effects are terrible, but generally perceived as the length of a single breath. You should recover your ability to think within one to three seconds after we break out. You will be violently dizzy for a few minutes after. I'm wearing a space sickness patch and will be strapped into the command chair so there should be no interruption in control of the ship once we exit the temporal displacement." He went up the few steps to the command pod and called back "One minute."

"Ru has done this so often," Sarek said, kneeling with them and holding onto the sill, "that we could not be in better hands." No one pretended he wasn't trying to convince himself.

"Thirty seconds."

Sikar _(I am not Kirk, don't even think it, someone might hear)_ put his hand flat on Spock's back in the comforting spot between the shoulderblades. The healers had taught him it worked on Vulcans of any age. On impulse, he reached over and did the same to Sarek, who registered a blip of astonishment before he, too, relaxed and felt grateful under Sikar's palm.

"Fifteen seconds." _We've done this several times, sa'mi. It's awful but it's over very quickly._ He tried to focus on the mantra John had suggested when he had been fresh out of the Academy hospital with a hammering head full of chaos. _Peace, be still. Peace, be still_.

"Ten seconds." The three of them were in a loop, the Vulcans with their lifetime of meditative practice, world locked out; peace, it would be tolerable, peace, it would work, peace, it would be

a Dali painting swirls of color dimmed light becoming taste becoming feeling becoming sound that rent the universe spinning fragments conversations broken worlds screaming fire ice earth water air crushing pressure nothing it was

all right. He waited for his vision to clear and the lurching in his inner ears to stop, and felt the Vulcans do the same, both undamaged. He rolled his weight back to the balls of his feet and got up in his best imitation of their fluid motion. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, to stand in order to be sure they could, to look around for casualties.

"All teams report," the captain said crisply. He had to admire Ru's ability to act unruffled, because he knew how long it took the _Enterprise_ crew to crawl back into chairs and not throw up on one another. The effect, Spock had assured him, was much worse for Vulcans, who didn't take well to having reality distorted; he could feel their minds leaning on his to reorient even as their bodies simultaneously leaned on and supported his. He remembered where the anti-nausea point was in their wrists and took one in each hand, being very careful with Sarek's that had been broken too often.

All healers reported no injuries. Sarek added, under his breath, "Yes, that helped."

"Sikar, you are most useful," Spock said as he stopped swallowing painfully.

"That's why you always argue with Dr. McCoy about painkillers, isn't it?"

He nodded, still looking a little off-color. "I had to explain to him that dealing with some pain is vastly preferable to feeling disconnected and having so little control. We will encounter that choice."

"We will make one full orbit before the first insertion," Ru announced. "Mostly so we can all regain our bearings. Preliminary results, less than one-thousandth of a second off target. We will make the excuse that we need to verify the actual situation with the projection. Team One has approximately thirty-three minutes to get over that. The rest of you check your equipment and most of all drink water. Some of you haven't been in the desert for a long time. Let me refresh your memories of your _kahs-wan_ , except this time there will be soldiers along with the usual plants and animals trying to kill you."

"Thank you ever so little," Sikar muttered.

"If you have not been under live fire before, you will not relish the experience when the heavy starts flying and it is, as you saw in the vids. Whatever you say or do may surprise you. Don't take it as an indictment of your character or, if you repress, control. War is not healthy and what you say or do about it may not be either. This is also your final reminder to take enough water for your own use as well as for the wounded. Teams seven, eighteen and twenty-one will not repeat will _not_ have access to potable water on surface. You have an extra slave to carry your containers. Teams nine, ten and fifteen will have ample water available so take extra empty containers and distribute what you can. Twenty-three, you have your extra team member to carry the cloaking device. You _will_ need it operating immediately on arrival. Hostiles will be less than one kilometer from your TZ. Reserve teams twenty-six, twenty-seven and twenty-eight, emergency response as agreed. Team One, your special arrangements are made, sa'mi?"

"Yes," Solkar said to the comm, then more quietly to the rest of them: "Mestral's carrying what I could get myself in trouble with and he'll hand me only what I need only when I need it."

"And if he gives Mestral any grief," added Lhairre, "I'll flatten him."

Solkar's mouth twitched to hint a smile. " _Elek!_ " _As if_. Team One laid out their bags on the table, making the last check on the kits that masqueraded as desert packs. Watching them make the calm survey gave Kirk some hope that he would be able to do the same.

Mestral, Solkar and Lhairre packed away their materials, slung on the kits and went to stand on the transporter pad. "Teams One and Two, insertion point approaching. Ready?"

"Ready all." They disappeared.

"Team Three and Four, thirty seconds." They were at the pad and prepared. "Five and Six." They, too, went off. "Seven and Eight." They went as the last of the battlefield passed out of transporter range. Kirk ( _Sikar, Sikar, remember, down there no one is named Kirk_ ) laid out their packs, checked one more time, rolled them again. They slung them diagonally across their backs and went to watch the formerly ordinary sight of T'Khasi turning below them in a way it never would again. Sarek pointed out familiar landmarks as they spun into night, the stony heights of Gol, the all but burnt-dry ocean that divided the two most frequently hostile nations, the peaceful high mountains with farms tucked away where glaciers had once been. He did not mention the triangle of battlefield, the flickering muzzle flashes from the Golic artillery pounding the lines near ShiKahr or the brighter flares from Kiri air-dropped bombing runs pummeling the main roads in the Forge.

The far side of the planet was already bone-dry and not heavily settled; it was in full sunlight, while the other side was completely dark with T'Kuht at apogee. Before long, they completed the full orbit and saw the great glowing spike of Seleya turning to meet them as the ship rounded into planetary night. "Teams Nine and Ten." They assumed their positions, and in a gentle stirring of electrons they feathered onto the planet that was no more but would always be.


End file.
